I'm guilty. I did it. I killed the Rev. Jerry Falwell. (Does "Rev." stand for "Revolting"?) For those of you who are oblivious, Jerry Falwell was found dead in his office. It's assumed that he had a coronary episode. However, the truth is that I snuck into his office with my ninja skills and dispatched him using a poison that has potassium chloride in it, which simulated the conditions of a myocardial infarction. Once his Holy Fuckness was dead, I saw his soul for an instant, hovering above his body, before it was sucked down in a red flash, where hopefully he'll be anally raped for all eternity by a series of gay Muslim men wearing Teletubby masks. As is my typical custom, I celebrated Falwell's death by doing a little happy dance – it's what I usually do when despicable people shuffle off the mortal coil. And since I was the one who killed him, I was especially happy! Don't believe me? Just look below for proof of my ninjosity (Click for a larger version):

In other news, when I got my mail today, I received an awesome postcard from the one and only Mr. Fabulous. He finally took me up on my advice to try necrophilia:

Thanks to Crystal for the idea for today's post.